


Bitter Bonds

by txilar



Series: Yearning [3]
Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:31:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/786084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/txilar/pseuds/txilar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>It is a dream and he knows it is a dream.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bitter Bonds

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [megyal](megyal.livejournal.com) who said “I'd like to read me some Belemi/Master Eddagard.” Master Eddagard isn’t really a hands-on type of trainer, so this happened.
> 
> Warnings: As this is slavefic, this story references dub-con, non-con, and abuse. It isn't extremely graphic, as the character is recounting past events, but it is rather unpleasant.

_In barren thrall of bitter bonds  
-Swinburne_

It is a dream and he knows it is a dream. He’s seventeen and sucking cock for the first time in his life. The man whose cock he is sucking is having a conversation with Master Eddagard, oblivious to Belemi’s ministrations. They laugh and, occasionally, a hand brushes his shoulder or his ear.

Time is dream-liquid and things happen that didn’t happen then, and things that didn’t happen then, are happening now. The present is the past and the past is now and it isn’t a fellow slave moving behind him, for training, like it was then. He was scared, so scared. He’d never been fucked before and--

“ _Shh, Belemi, you’re okay_.”

There are hands on him, warm, circling round and round, feathering over his hip, his thigh, his belly. Like that, his fear is gone.

Khamad.

Belemi can’t see--his face is in a man’s crotch and can’t see behind him, but he knows it is Khamad touching him. Khamad, young and black-haired, and with such adoration in his eyes, that Belemi remembers him suddenly and immediately. It almost wakes him, this realisation, the recognition.

You, he thinks. How could I have forgot you?

He was not the first man to fuck Belemi, but Khamad was the first man to kiss him. He wanted Belemi then and he wanted Belemi now. Dream now, and the now that is outside of the dream.

“ _I want to take you home."_ He said that, and Belemi remembered it. But Khamad had not taken him home.

Belemi sucks and the men above him talk. Their meaningless chatter is muffled, like he’s a sleepy child and the adults are talking over him.

“ _Now. Get him ready to fuck._ ”

Master speaks and he remembers that first intrusive touch and there’s something inside him, a ragged friction and pressure. It is enticing, incredibly sensual, in a way it never was before. In a way it wasn’t then.

The dream is twisted. He remembers pain and shame, but now, it’s Khamad and suddenly Belemi is hard. He remembers how it hurt. He remembers them laughing.

“ _He’s a delicate thing, isn’t he_?”

Master laughs in agreement.

The man pets Belemi like a dog, ruffling his hair before pushing his hand back to cradle Belemi’s head, tugging him further down on his cock.

The Belemi that is dreaming feels a delicious pressure inside him, but the Belemi who was there and remembers, feels his cock soft, his balls quaking and he’s afraid. He isn’t afraid of the man, but what he’s going to do.

The man bending over him is a former Koravian soldier. He is the guard captain now and his name is Burzul. Burzul was wounded in battle years ago when he was younger than Belemi is now. A spear lodged itself into his head and by the grace of the gods, it did not kill him, but he was captured, and the soldier was no more. In his place was a kind, if slightly bemused, man with a limited vocabulary and absolute loyalty to Master Eddagard. They call him Burzi. He is as protective of Master’s charges as he is of Master and especially fond of Belemi.

Belemi remembers Burzi smiling at him.

Master has been tempting Burzi with promises of Belemi. Physical contact is not allowed outside of training--and Belemi’s training is now of a singular nature, but he brandishes Belemi, provoking Burzi until he can’t keep his hands off Belemi.

And then Master Eddagard tells Belemi that Burzi will be his first.

 _“Burzi fuck Belemi today_ ,” Burzi says and smiles. It’s only to Belemi that he speaks like that--always as if Burzi were someone else. He promises not to hurt Belemi, but he can only do what Master commands.

Once again Master and the man with the cock are talking over him and their voices come from far away. Burzi is inside him; his cock is hard and huge and so is the cock in Belemi’s mouth.

He remembers Burzi fucking him. Burzi is taller than he is, and built like a castle. Solid. And he is, in the common parlance, hung like a horse.

Master Eddagard encourages Burzi to have his way with Belemi.

“ _Men won’t be gentle with you. You aren’t a lady to be courted and beguiled. Don’t stop sucking. Take him hard, Burzi. I want him to feel you for days_.”

And in the way that dreams do, suddenly, it is Khamad sucking him and Khamad fucking him. He’s hard, he can feel it--not like that first time, but he can’t breathe. There are hands all over him, voices muddled in his head, and he feels the bubbling crest of orgasm winding through his fear. He knows he has to get away from them. He can’t run. Burzi could help him.

“Burzi...”

He groans as Burzi moves--hard and fast and the man whose cock he is sucking grasps his head closer, choking him. He gasps as Burzi slams into him. It hurts and he can’t--

_I can’t breathe._

There are hands shaking him. He is choking. He gasps.

_Dear gods, no more._

“Belemi? Wake up.”

An arm over him. A hand flat against his stomach, pulling him back against a warm chest and a hard cock.

“Master?” The room is oddly warm. _Where am I?_

There is a shifting of body and blanket and the clicking sound of a lamp being lit. He’s afraid to look, but Khamad pulls him onto his back.

“Belemi, open your eyes.” It’s a soft command, more like a suggestion, and even though he’s afraid to do it, Belemi opens his eyes.

Khamad, his hair flat on one side and sticking up on the other stares at him. The worry is clear in his eyes. Belemi recognises those wide, dark eyes, like drops of blood on the fighting floor and wonders how he ever forgot Khamad.

“Were you dreaming?” Khamad reaches out again, petting, touching him gently.

He’s afraid to speak so he nods, just barely. He’s almost afraid to move.

“Was it a bad--a nightmare? Do you want to tell me?”

Belemi shakes his head, a mere tremor of movement, not sure if he’s answering one question or both. It wasn’t a nightmare so much as a memory. One he doesn’t really want to share.

Khamad’s hand smoothes slowly over Belemi’s stomach. “Okay. Let’s stay up for a bit.”

Belemi hates this. He’s woken from these kinds of dreams before and he can’t tell if he’s awake and dreaming or dreaming of being awake. Does Khamad own him or did he free him? Was that a dream? Is this a dream? Is he Belemi No Name, or is he Belemi Davia?

He cannot possibly ask.

“Would you like tea?”

Would he ask that if Belemi were his?

“I can leave, if you want to be alone.” His voice is soft. Not quite a whisper and he is looking at Belemi so intently he can feel it. It prickles, that gaze. And the questions, the words, it’s all so gentle. And he’s coming round now, waking and knowing who he is--who they are now.

His breathes in deep as he comes back into himself, feeling stupid. A nightmare. A potent one. Was it the wine?

“Don’t go,” he whispers and feels Khamad’s nod. Belemi grasps the hand over his belly.

“Who is Burzi?” Khamad’s voice is quiet and low.

“Burzi is Master’s guard. Was...” He still has that strange feeling that he’s going back. That Master Eddagard is waiting for him. Waiting to grade him, tell him what he did wrong, what needs work. How his pleasing isn’t pleasing enough. What his punishment will be.

“Call him by his name, Bel. He isn’t your master. No one is.”

Belemi smiles at that. “Burzi was Eddagard’s guard.” It’s easy to say, surprisingly. “A soldier, back when Tilba still fought the Kor. A spear went through his helmet and lodged in his brain but he survived. It made him a little simple, but not as simple as he pretended to be. He played dumb a lot, but he wasn’t. Not at all.”

“He was Koravye?” Khamad pronounces the word properly and it gives Belemi pause.

“Yes.” Then, hesitantly he asks. “You’re Kor-Koravye?”

Khamad laughs. “That depends upon whom you ask. And when. My grandfather was a Tilban lord, related to the throne. He was out with a friend, a General, surveying lands when they came upon a wounded Koravyena--a woman,” he clarifies. “She had been cast out from her people.” Khamad shrugs and Belemi is reassured by the movement. He pulls back and faces Khamad.

“What happened to her?”

“He fell in love with her. They married.” He is quiet for a moment. “This was before the accords, so you can imagine... He built this villa for Umma Jada so she would have a place of her own. Palace life was difficult for her. And for my father as well, but he, well he met the challenge head on, so to speak.”

Khamad turns to look at him, touching his face gently. “Tell me about Burzi. Did he hurt you?”

“Oh, well, not... he didn’t mean to. He had to do as he was ordered. We all did. Once it was official that I was going to Konuz, I wasn’t used in training any longer.”

At Khamad’s expression, he explains. “I helped train the women. Once I had a buyer, Eddagard felt it was an ‘unnecessary treat,’ so I was forbidden. And he began my training with Burzi. Burzi was the only one who--he was a large man. As tall as I am now, and built like a castle. He liked me. He didn’t want to hurt me, but he...” Belemi trails off before looking at Khamad and shrugging. “He had to do as he was told.”

“Persevering is a strength, too, Belemi.”

Belemi smiles, wondering what became of Burzi. “He was funny. When he wasn’t under orders, he was gentle. Like he was making up for the other. He’d bring me flowers and fruit.” Belemi laughs with the memory. “And he spoke funny. Only to me and Eddagard. He’d never say ‘I,’ it was always ‘Burzi is sorry’ or ‘Burzi is hungry.’ ‘Burzi brings sweets,’” he says, eyes closed, and seeing Burzi’s face. “Sometimes he was like a child.”

“It’s a sign of respect.”

“What is?”

“In the Koraveen tongue, it’s a very formal way of expressing respect. Instead of saying ‘I love you,’ for example, I would use our names. ‘Khamad loves Belemi.’ It’s the height of respect to use someone’s name and to offer your own. It makes things formal, but also makes them stronger.”

Belemi is struck by the idea Burzi respected him, and also, what Khamad says. After all that he’s done, he’s never said such. Nor has Belemi. “Oh. How would--how would you say that?”

Khamad smiles. “Belemi Khamadiya qalaaneyun.” He bites his lip as he reaches out to touch Belemi’s face. “We could look for Burzi. Eddagard too, for that matter. See him as a--”

“No.” He shakes his head away from Khamad’s touch. He has no interest in seeing either of them. It doesn’t matter that--no. He cannot. Will not. The idea makes him nervous.

“Kiss me,” Belemi says suddenly. He doesn’t really want a kiss, not right now, but he wants the request granted, the command answered, and the touch. He wants to know Khamad will do what he asks without question, without hesitation.

That Khamad is as much Belemi’s as Belemi is his.

When Khamad kisses him the last vestiges of the spell are broken. Something rights itself in him and seems to solidify. Dreams might return, but something tells him the nightmares are finished. He knows who he is. He’s Belemi Davia. He has twenty-seven years, he is free, and he is loved.

Bitter dreams may remain, but the bitter bonds are no more.

 

-fin-  



End file.
